


The Fall of Arthas

by Dragonwolf_Dreamwalker



Series: The Adventures of Dragonwolf [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 13:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18661459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonwolf_Dreamwalker/pseuds/Dragonwolf_Dreamwalker
Summary: Dragonwolf heads to Northrend on her quest to help the forces of Azeroth defeat Arthas. The path is anything but straight (or short), however.





	The Fall of Arthas

**Author's Note:**

> Like most of my other stories, this is very much a work in progress. Whether it'll ever get finished I don't know. That depends entirely on how much gumption I have to do so.

Dragonwolf gazed at the vast cliffs in the distance as the zepplin docked at the tower.

"The zepplin to Orgrimmar has arrived! All aboard for Durotar!" one of the goblins shouted as the craft slowed to a halt next to the deck.

'So this is Northrend,' she thought as she looked around some more. Looking down at the town below, she couldn't help but chuckle, 'looks more like Undercity so far.' As an alchemist herself, Dragonwolf had a certain respect for the banshee queen's Royal Apothecary Society, but something about them still unsettled her. Many of them were obsessed with exacting revenge on the humans, trying (unsuccessfully) to recreate the plague that brought them here, and to the Horde, to begin with.

"Severe stomach pain!?" A male voice shouted from below, followed by the sound of shattering glass. "The High Apothecary wants a plague, and you bring me this?!" The apothecary shrieked at his assistant. 'Well, at least we know how they've progressed with it,' the old Druid thought as she shifted to her more graceful Lion form and casually stepped off the zepplin tower to land in the cold grass below.

Without missing a beat, she stood back up, shifting back into her Tauren form, and immediately summoned her trusty mount to her -- a black and red feathered raptor, courtesy of the Darkspear Trolls as a reward for her valor in battle. She patted the beast's shoulder, "let's go friend, there's much for us here to explore." The raptor chirped with glee and trotted toward the center of the small town.

Their first stop was at one of the apothecaries to learn about the plants of Northrend and the various things that could be made from them.

She paged through the tome of recipes and herbalism information. “Hmm, it seems Goldclover is the primary herb up here.” She flipped through another few pages. “Ooh, some nice new flasks to make.” Dragonwolf frowned as she reached the end of the book. “Well, that was a little lackluster, I was hoping for something a little more...exotic.”

“The Kirin Tor say there are other recipes scattered throughout the Northrend Provinces, m’lady,” the old Apothecary woman responded. “They also seem fond of spontaneously discovering new recipes while transmuting.”

“Ah, the joys of alchemy,” Dragonwolf sighed “Sometimes I wish I had stayed a Leatherworker like Father wanted me to be. Thank you, ma’am, for your help.” She bowed slightly, then straightened and crossed her fist over her chest in the standard Horde salute, before leaving the tower.

Being a Stone Guard in Thrall’s army wasn’t all blood and glory. In fact, most of the time, it was quite dull, full of boring (albeit necessary) tasks and seemingly endless hours of resource gathering. For the next several hours, the pair ran errands for the town’s General, and slowly made their way to the cliff that would lead them to the rest of the continent.

“At least this place is more like home, eh old friend?” Dragonwolf patted her raptor. He chirped in agreement as they both looked out over the vast, frozen plains, with the mountains looming in the distance. “Not like Outland, what with its giant mechanical beasts and floating islands in the void.” The raptor grunted. “I know, I know. Nagrand was a fantastic place, and, you’re right, about as close to Mulgore as you can get without actually going back there...except for the floating islands.” 

They set off again in a Northwestern direction, but hadn’t traveled more than a few dozen yards before stopping next to a viney, yellowish plant that looked more like a weed than a flower. “Ah, this must be Goldclover,” Dragonwolf said as she gingerly shifted the branches around, examining the plant further. She pulled one of the saddlebags off of her Raptor and pulled out her set of harvesting knives and expertly cut the parts of the plant that she needed, careful to ensure that the plant would grow back. 

As she cut away the flowers and softer stems, she noticed a different stem that wound around the trunk of the Goldclover. Its ends were more spiny than the Goldclover, with pods that resembled tiny pine cones. “And this must be Deadnettle. You know, old friend, Deadnettle doesn’t actually harm the plants it grows on, but rather, can help provide extra support, and even sacrifice itself so that its host can survive.” The Raptor huffed as Dragonwolf cut the Deadnettle stem pieces that she needed.

Placing the Deadnettle and Goldclover in her herb bag, she pulled out her atlas and filled in the missing segment of map representing the land they had traversed the past few hours. She also marked the location of Goldclover, so that she could return to harvest it later, when it grew back sufficiently.

"Shall we go find Dalaran, friend?" The raptor chirped. "Let's see, the general said that it was here, in Crystalsong Forest, north of Wintergrasp." She pointed on her map to an area with little detail, northwest of her current location. "That would be a long way to travel on foot, but he mentioned that there was a small encampment here," she pointed to a spot within their current territory, "we should be able to reach it by nightfall." With that, she folded her map, placed it back into the saddlebag, and mounted the raptor. With a gentle tap, they started off in a trot.

It wasn't long before they came across an encampment, but it wasn't the one they were looking for. The tents were far too small, and the general told her it was a more permanent settlement. No, something was wrong here. She cautiously dismounted and sent the raptor to hide as she shifted into her lion form and prowled closer. By using the lush landscape, Dragonwolf was able to slip closer to the camp without being detected. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene.

Dwarves! Except they weren't, not quite. They certainly weren't from any of the tribes on the other continents. They looked more stone than flesh. I know the Dwarves say they were made from the stone, but… her thought trailed off as a patrol neared her, close enough to see the markings on their bodies. 

They were the color of slate, and the markings glowed an eerie blue. They appeared to be runes, similar to those used by the Bronzebeard and Wildhammer Dwarves of the Alliance, but different in ways Dragonwolf couldn't quite pinpoint. Earthen, perhaps? Or maybe another proto-dwarf? She made a note to talk to Brann Bronzebeard the next time she saw him. I am certain he would be interested in these tribes.

Dragonwolf froze as she picked up a new set of footfalls, from a much larger creature than these dwarves. She turned slowly, her eyes widening at the much, much larger version of her new acquaintance coming her way.

Oh... that's not good. She backed away slowly, careful to avoid the camp, too. She made her way toward the cover of a stand of trees, where she found her Raptor waiting for her. She shifted out and hopped on. “Let's get out of here, friend,” she said as she steered further Northwest.


End file.
